Rice Krispie Rambles
by Hoperise
Summary: Whatever he thought would come of accepting Erskine's offer, it certainly wasn't this: sitting on a balcony overlooking Manhattan, sharing hot chocolate and marshmallow treats with the crown prince of another dimension. Steve and Thor talk leadership, love, and loss. {Exhausted!Steve} One-shot.


Setting: Before the team splits at the end of Avengers. I loved the cameo in Thor 2: The Dark World, but it made me wonder when Thor and the Cap might've had a chance to chat before. This is the result.

Genre: Friendship/Drama

Summary: Whatever he thought would come of accepting Erskine's offer, it certainly wasn't this: sitting on a balcony overlooking Manhattan, sharing hot chocolate and marshmallow treats with the crown prince of another dimension. Steve and Thor talk leadership, love, and loss. {Exhausted!Steve}

* * *

Before the serum, Steve had been a lightweight (a light everything, to be honest). The only advantage to his low tolerance was the money he saved on alcohol - it didn't take much for him to get suitably pissed, and as such he tried to practice restraint. Nights when temptation overrode his temperance came few and far between. After the serum, the point became moot, but the cowardly desire to escape into drunken oblivion remained. If there were ever a night when Steve wanted to get completely obliterated, this was one.

And that was okay, right? If he truly were the flag-waving robot that he was expected to be, he wouldn't be afraid. He would never have doubts or second-guess himself. These moments of hesitation were evidence of his humanity.

No, this was a taste of his punishment. In his arrogance, he took on the burden of saving the world - not just from its demons, but from itself. His penance was to watch with perfect clarity as everything he held dear slipped from his fingertips.

He took in the darkening skyline as it disappeared into the haze of settling dust, his enhanced hearing catching the sound of distant sirens. Rescue workers would be picking bodies out of the rubble for weeks now. He knew some of the images he'd processed today would remain with him for years.

Well, if he really wanted to get smashed, with the right provocation a certain doctor might oblige him.

Great shoulders bowed as he leaned against the balcony railing and tried to catch a shallow breath. It felt as though he hadn't been able to breathe deeply since the day began at the crack of three, since before his world had turned on its end - again. Of course, his very real broken ribs did nothing to aid his respiration. Neither did the pulmonary contusion that had earned him an overnight stay in SHIELD Medical for observation (pending the initial debriefing). As soon as they were done, he was off to a restful night of being prodded and poked like the lab experiment he was.

Even Captain America reached a point of retreat. His team was in good hands, and nobody needed him until the debriefing. He'd wandered Stark Tower with his hands in his pockets, waiting for the meeting to commence ever since his ribs had been wrapped and he'd been sent on his way with a bottle of useless medication. Benched due to his injuries and overlooked due to his mobility, Steve just- slipped away.

Maybe he was being petulant, but a part of Steve wanted to go home and pretend he'd never accepted Fury's mission. He hung his head and exhaled. Pretended he was nowhere, with no pressure and no expectations, without this gnawing, hollowing pain of loss.

Then his eyes snapped open again. That sounded a lot like being back in the ice.

And at that moment, the door behind him slid open.

Steve's mouth thinned and he straightened up slowly to avoid jostling his wounded side. He cast a glance over his shoulder and glimpsed one of the weirder sights he'd seen that day.

Which was saying something.

Thor had traded his cape and armored sleeves for a scarlet apron with a stylized hamburger that read, 'Hands off my buns!' He bore a tray with two steaming mugs, a thermos and a plate of what appeared to be an assortment of rice krispies treats.

"The Man of Iron's invisible servant informed me that you might be found here. I come bearing sustenance!"

Maybe if he had been rested Steve could have found a more tactful way to respond - better than: "What the hell are you wearing?"

The Prince of Asgard swelled with pride at his cultural sensitivity. "The customary robe of baking. Lady Pepper was kind enough to spare one while I occupied her kitchen."

It must have been one of the innumerable blows to the head he had taken that day. That would explain the temporary insanity. "Thor, did you bake those yourself?"

The demigod smiled easily and set the tray down on a patio table. "I did. I noticed the morale in the tower beginning to decline. When such things happen in my lady's household, she fortifies the premises with sugar, or alcohol. My sources tell me that such a solution would be ineffective for you, Captain. Since Lady Pepper neglected to restock her supplies of Tarts of Pop, I present an alternative." Thor explained, pressing into Steve's hand a large mug that smelled of cocoa and mint, complete with marshmallows floating on the top.

This might have actually been the nicest thing anyone had done for Steve since he woke up in this century. "Thank you, Thor. This is really thoughtful." He took a sip of molten mint chocolate and paused to savor the velvety richness. God, he hadn't had chocolate in more than seventy years. "It's also incredible. Wow. What is this? What's in it?"

The wattage on Thor's smile increased. "Peppermint Hot Cocoa. 'Tis a Foster family secret - I am bound to silence."

They moved to sit in sociable tranquility, sipping cocoa and munching on the rice krispies treats. It could have been the chocolate, the rise in blood sugar after an exhausting day, or the presence of a companion who didn't feel the need to fill every breath with condescending cultural references. In any case, Steve was starting to feel like a person again after a few minutes, draining his mug before asking, "How's your side doing? That stab wound looked pretty nasty earlier."

The prince's gaze slipped to the shadows for a moment before he patted his abdomen gently. "Your doctors declared the damage to be temporary. In time, I suspect Loki shall regret the assault more than I." Gone from Thor's voice was the pride with which he used to speak of his brother, replaced by melancholic bitterness. His chest, shielded by the hamburger apron, heaved suddenly. "And how does your injury fare? You took a blast that would have fallen a seasoned warrior."

Steve shrugged gently, cognizant of the tenderness in his side. "I'm a quick healer. I should be fine in a couple days." And until his ribs had set once more, he'd been benched from the rescue efforts, leaving him with more time than he'd like to reflect on the events of the last forty-eight hours.

He could manage a crisis situation with practiced ease. After the adrenaline fade away, when the enemy was captured or in retreat, he didn't quite know what to do with himself. This was when Steve typically leaned on his brothers-in-arms for support, or to his commanding officers for further direction.

He didn't... He'd never done this alone before.

This time, he was on his own.

Penetrating loneliness stole the breath from Steve's lungs and caused his gaze to go dark.

Beside him, the prince of Asgard busied himself by filling both their mugs with the contents of the thermos. Steve was grateful for the distraction and murmured his thanks, taking a hasty gulp of scalding chocolate. Perhaps the heat could melt the growing tightness in his throat.

"You are troubled, Captain Rogers." Thor observed, his voice a low rumble.

The implication that he was connected, even through the chain of command, to the same people who'd ordered a nuclear strike on Manhattan caused him to bristle. He took a careful breath. "Please, call me Steve."

"Alright, Steve. What ails you so?" The quiet sincerity in the demigod's voice caused Steve to look up. Stormy blue eyes caught his attention, and he was struck by the realization that the broad-shouldered man before him was the future king of an entire dimension. Somehow, Thor was responsible for thousands -potentially millions of lives- and yet he possessed the focus to make his listener feel as though the only thing that mattered at the moment was this conversation.

Steve felt petty. And tiny.

He opened his mouth in response before he had formed the words to reply.

"I used to think I had this all figgered out. I knew the good guys from the bad guys; all my commanders had to do was wind me up and set me off in the right direction. Now I'm in this new century and for the life of me, I can't figure out which way is up."

Thor nodded slowly, considering his words over a mouthful of chocolate. His gaze wandered to the distant, smoking horizon. "The arrogance of youth. What a privilege it was to know everything in the world."

Despite himself, Steve chuckled. "I know, right. Those were the days." His smile faded and his fingers tapped a nonsense rhythm against the mug. Lips parting, he drew half a breath as he started and abandoned a sentence.

Did he really want to be that brutally honest with a man he'd just met?

Well, it was clear that Thor had a fairly low opinion of humans as a whole. If he could fall no further, then he might as well get this off his chest. "I don't... I don't know how to do this. I've lost my center. I don't know how I'm supposed to lead without a compass, without knowing where I'm going." His voice was soft, confessional, as he stared into the murky brown depths of his mug. Unable or unwilling to meet the gaze of the demigod.

A moment passed. Then, the treat-laden plate appeared in Steve's peripheral vision.

"Eat." Thor rumbled, clearly not in a gaming mood.

Not ready to argue the point and unsure when he'd last eaten, Steve complied.

Two marshmallow treats later, the Asgardian had a reply for him. "When I lose my way in the woods, I find it best to move slowly and follow my heart. Tell me, Steve, what does your heart tell you?"

His gut twisted painfully and it became hard to breathe once more. "I don't know. Too much." Faces flashed before his eyes in a macabre parade. If he quieted his mind long enough, all he could hear was the soul-wrenching cry of his heart demanding answers - why him?

Steve's free hand clenched into a fist and he had to consciously loosen it to avoid breaking the mug in his other hand.

A thought occurred.

"Thor, you gotta girl, right? A human girl?"

His eyes lit up with pleasure. "Yes, I have that privilege."

Rolling the mug between his hands, Steve fought for clarity. "But she's mortal. And you're sorta- immortal. How's that work?"

Thor frowned. "I do not catch your meaning."

"Well, are you planning on immortalizing her? Otherwise, a hundred years from now, what happens to you?"

Deep Sorrow set over Thor's face. "I do not yet know."

"Well, has this ever happened before? Has any other Asgardian fallen for a human?"

The would-be king shifted uncomfortably, manifesting the closest thing to awkwardness on graceful features. "We have had... dalliances amongst your people. What is it that you are truly asking, warrior?"

Steve set the mug down, not trusting his fingers any longer. He wrung his hands, heart in his throat. "I wanna know, what do you do when you love someone who's dead or good as? What do you- what do you even do with that?"

Thor's eyes filled with compassion. When he found his voice again, his words came softer than any other time that Steve had heard him speak. "I imagine you'd do as the rest of us do. Continue living."

He let out a laugh a bit louder than appropriate for the moment. "Easier said than done."

"Aye, 'tis true." Thor filled both their mugs with the remnants of the thermos. Steam rose gently from the hot liquid, blending with smog and smoke and whatever else tainted the atmosphere of this godforsaken era. The prince leaned back in his chair, stretching endless legs out before him. "You know Steve, the man that you mentioned before? The leader who assumed he knew everything, who claimed to understand truth better than any other? I would find it difficult to follow that man."

Handing him his mug once more, Thor caught his gaze and held it as a man with authority over countless stars. "But a man who knows his limits? A man of compassion, who measures each step to determine its soundness? A man conscientious enough to question the assumptions he holds most dearly, who seeks justice above comfort, with courage to face his shortcomings, who has known bitter defeat and has overcome? I would follow that man to Helheim and back."

Steve's mouth opened, but he had no words.

Thor's mouth curled slightly and he raised his mug. "To your health, my captain."

* * *

This has been sitting mostly finished in my Evernote for a couple of months now. Figured I'd post it, since I'm in a finishing mood. Hope you guys enjoyed!

**Don't write the story. Live the story.**


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